your name was written in the stars
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: /while mine was on the tip of your tongue/ When Tobey finds out that there are strange markings on his wrist, he enlists the help of a linguist, only to find that she was an old childhood enemy. (Soulmate AU, takes place in the future, no heroes/villains!)
1. Unreadable

The scribbles written on the inside of his wrist teased Tobey like a schoolboy trying to get a cute girl to notice him.

They were angular and boxy, with dashes and dots strewn about the lines. The scribbles were written on his wrist with a sort of timid shyness—as if this was the first time the indecipherable scrawls were written. Whatever the case, Tobey was not amused when these mad scribbles of whatever this person was trying to write had somehow appeared on his wrist right in the middle of his lecture.

He had been busy ruffling notes and pointing to his presentation when his left wrist began to tingle. It wasn't painful or terribly itchy. It was something akin to that static-y feeling one would feel if they had lain on a limb for too long.

A bit frazzled by the unblinking stares from his audience, the blond had paid it no mind.

That was a bad idea.

Even the lightest sensation could bring forth the power of a migraine or a headache. What had been something as light as an ant crawling up and down the inside of his wrist quickly morphed into a number of hot pokers trying to drive their way out of the prison of his flesh. With a forced apology and promises to finish his presentation next class, Tobey ran out of the lecture hall (almost bowling over a lovely brunette) and fell to a stop inside a male restroom.

That was when he observed his arm and found himself shaking in a mixture of terror and fury.

His soulmate's name was virtually unreadable.


	2. Alien

Some scholars believe that the mark of a soulmate was a rare hereditary trait to breed alliances between enemy nations. Furthermore, it was rare for soulmates to be found in close proximity to one another. The working theory was that some centuries ago, two young lovers of enemy tribes had sacrificed their well being in social circles to ensure that the advent of war would never come to pass.

It was an archaic theory, but one that made the most sense—soulmates were thought to have originated from old African tribes.

And, as one would often think of hereditary genes, evolution was also debated and thought about.

Evolution had humans progress and advance themselves. Soul marks were no longer as rare to have and most could find their soulmates within the same region if they so wished. What was once a one in a thousandth chance to become a cog in Fate's design became as common as finding someone with blue eyes.

Not everyone had it, but everyone knew someone who did.

Soul marks ranged from the most benign of things (like a scrawled name inside the wrist) to the most grotesque (coughing up flowers that sprouted from the lungs). People who had these marks either choose to seek out their soulmates or settle down with someone who was compatible via traditional means of dating.

As for a certain tech enthusiast, he didn't think too hard on the whole soulmate/soul mark debacle. If he were to get a soulmate and a soul mark, then he was fine with it. If he didn't, then he wouldn't have to worry about his love life until later in life when he was ready for it.

Tobey just didn't want to think too hard on it because there was just something off about the whole 'destined lover' sort of situations that played out in tradition and in social media. Just what was it like to have a soulmate? What was it like to bear a soul mark, knowing that it had taken away all other romantic interests (as per what traditional tellings had said it did)?

For the most part, the idea of meshing soulmates with the bespectacled blond didn't really come to pass.

However, that all changed when those strange markings on his left wrist appeared during that one lecture. It was after hours and hours upon research (and that was after hours of grading and coming up with new lesson plans and tests for his students) that Tobey learned something crucial about his soul mark.

Those strange markings bore no resemblance to any known written system in the world.

It looked so...alien, he thought. Like it was something out of this world.


	3. Linguistics

"Linguistics." Tobey penned something in his notebook before looking at his friend with something akin to fire lighting in his eyes. "Do you know anybody good in linguistics? Someone who has a veritable amount of knowledge concerning the origin of languages and whatnot?"

"Whoa! Slow down, Theo!" Peter jokingly clutched his head as he peered down at his laptop. If Tobey were to look closely enough, he could see the faint outline of some sort of social media website in the glare of the brunet's glasses. "Geeze, I know I look smart and all, but I have the vocabulary fit for an infant."

Tobey flicked a piece of paper in his friend's direction. "Christmas is around the corner, is it not?"

"Wha—?" Recognition lit the brunet's eyes as he processed the hidden threat in Tobey's question. "Wait! You are not getting me a dictionary for Christmas!" Peter looked so scandalized; Tobey almost broke down and had a laugh.

Dictionaries or thesauruses weren't _that bad a _present. And, if he were being honest, he had already chosen a hardbound copy of his favorite Webster's dictionary. _Just for Peter_.

"In all seriousness, dude, why not ask the head of the Humanities department yourself?"

"Because," Tobey groused. He propped his head against the flat of his palm as he looked out the window in forlorn abandon. "I'm no good with people and I know that you have connections. Consider this a way of using your resources."

"And here I thought that we were friends."

"Oh, we are. You just happen to be also a good tool for socialization."

"Har de har, Theo. Anywhoozles—"

"Not a word, Anderson."

"—_anywhoozles_," Peter enunciated even more obnoxiously, "Megan…you remember her?"

The blond thought for a moment. "Didn't you say that she could knock back seven glasses of tequila in five seconds?"

"Hell yeah."

Tobey made a 'get on with it' sort of motion as Peter flashed a wicked grin in his direction.

"Yeah, Megan says that there's this promising TA or something that majored in linguistics. You're into that, right?"

"Get to the point, Anderson, or I'll get you a dictionary and thesaurus combo along with a few grammar lesson books meant for preschoolers."

"Right!" Peter tapped on his keyboard and when a promising 'ping' came up, he said, "Megan says she can hook you up with said TA next Monday. Just let her make sure that she can talk with the TA beforehand so she can clear a period just for you."

At that rare nugget of good news, Tobey brightened. Perhaps he could finally be rid of whatever nonsense that plagued his hand for good.


	4. Rivals

"Am I bothering you? I could leave."

Back when he was a child, Tobey was loath to admit that he was wrong. It was rare for him to admit fault or to apologize to his peers for whatever misdeed he had done to them. Nowadays, he had matured to a fine adult—minus a few quirks and tendencies that allowed his anger and negativity to get the best of him. For the most part, however, he was considered a swell guy by his peers and by the students that he was licensed to teach.

Therein lay the problem.

You see, while he was not necessarily a bad guy in the eyes of peers and students, he was still not held in the highest regard by _her_.

Rebecca Botsford.

Better known as Becky Botsford.

They had been rivals as children, unwitting partners for projects during their high school years, and had never continued communication while they were pursuing their dreams in whatever first pick college they had attended.

Tobey had robotics and technology.

Becky had words and languages.

The world was so small and fate so petty that it was no wonder that Tobey and Becky were destined to meet again.

Becky bit her lip, an action that had Tobey looking away in shame. She had hesitated in answering and now it looked like he was about to be kicked out from her office.

"Ah, sorry to bother—"

"No!" Becky practically yelled the word in protest. Once she realized that she had spoken with the volume that could be likened to a shrieking foghorn, she recoiled and began to tug at the hem of her lime green cardigan. "I mean…it was just a surprise to see you again! It's been…how long has it been?"

"Eight or nine years?"

A small smile turned up the corners of her lips.

"Oh, wow…I wonder where Scoops and Violet are now." She seemed to reminisce for a minute before turning back to him, a determined stance dominating her body as she gestured for him to follow her. "Megan—that's the girl who told me that you were coming—she didn't tell me your name, only that I should expect a visitor from Fair City University and that you were looking into my area of expertise. What seems to be the problem?"

A little taken aback by her enthusiasm, Tobey merely followed her lead until she stopped and arched one of her dark eyebrows. Did she want—? Oh, yes! She wanted to know what the problem was! Flustered, but not to the point where he could feel the tips of his ears turning red, he whipped out a sheet of paper that he had hastily ripped from his notebook that very morning.

"Could you happen to search for this particular writing? I tried cross referencing and searching on my own, but none of my resources could verify that this was a real language."

When Tobey handed the crumpled paper to her (_didn't he fold it neatly before stuffing it into his pocket?_), he happened to feel something.

Something strange.

There was this moment where their fingers just happened to brush over each other. At that precise moment when skin met skin, Tobey felt an overwhelming pressure and fire build up from inside his arm. It was like that moment when his skin was burning during that fateful day at the lecture hall, but this time…it was like the force had been concentrated into a small area where the scrawl of his soul mark just happened to be. Therefore, the pain and the effect of having this sensation had tripled in intensity.

It was only a second of feeling, but only a second was needed.

Tobey fell to the ground, unaware of a pair of tanned hands reaching out to aid him.


	5. Nostalgia

Tobey opened his eyes.

Well.

He tried to.

It took an embarrassing amount of time and effort to get him to see, but once he had, he wished he were blinded.

"I know I'm gorgeous, Tobey, but swooning over me at the faintest touch takes it a bit too far." Becky sat at his side, book in hand, while she gazed at him with humor on her lips, but concern in her eyes. Not the best combination to be sure, but heat blossomed in his chest all the same.

"McCallisters don't swoon—" He adjusted his glasses on his face. "—we faint."

The brunette pursed her lips before holding the piece of paper that Tobey had given her before his impromptu fainting session. If Tobey didn't know any better, he would have thought that she was about to laugh at his quip.

"Anyway, I talked to some of my old professors, talked to some friends overseas…" She shrugged her shoulders, obviously not wanting to tell him that his inquiry was for naught. "This…language, this writing system simply does not exist at all."

"Well, that makes for an interesting topic for a dinner party." He flopped back onto the covers (_was he in a hospital bed? for crying out loud, he had fainted, not taken ill like a hysterical woman from the Victorian Era!_) all the while ignoring Becky's squawks of indignation.

"You'll injure yourself! Does the word concussion mean anything to you?"

"Concussion: the temporary unconsciousness caused by a blow to the head. The term is also used loosely of the after effects such as confusion or temporary incapacity." It was an old trick in his book, one that had Becky perking up at him with a sly smile on her lips.

It reminded him of old times.

It seemed that Becky was thinking along the same lines because there was a similar look of nostalgia in her eyes.

"Now we know that you aren't too ill to return a quip like that."

"Milady, I am never too ill enough to define a word."

For a split second, Becky seemed to choke on her words, as if her hearing couldn't quite make out what he had just said. On the other hand, Tobey was feeling quite good about himself. During his time at high school and college, he had zero to no positive encounters with the fairer sex… unless you counted Becky, but he didn't want to think about that. Furthermore, it was rare for him to cause a girl's speechlessness, but it was rarer still for his old school rival to see her so flustered.

It was a nice change.

Becky made as if she wanted to choke out another comeback, but failed. Instead, she carefully placed the paper with his rendition of the alien language onto his lap.

"Well…" She laughed a bit awkwardly. "Megan told me that you were desperate or something? What's so special about these bunch of scribbles?" She nodded at the paper.

Tobey rolled his eyes before muttering, "I probably shouldn't have come. Damn Anderson." At Becky's questioning glance, he clarified, "I found them...somewhere and my roommate suggested that I look more into the matter."

She furrowed her brows in consternation. "That's not like you."

"Really?" That piqued Tobey's curiosity. "How so?"

"Well, you don't do things for no reason. And you definitely don't do things just because someone told you to do it." Under her breath, she muttered, "I should know... you were terrible whenever you were partnered with someone during high school."

"Hey! I'm bedridden, not deaf!"

She coughed for a few brief seconds before glaring in his general direction, a look of suspicion in her eyes. It was as if…as if she were assessing him for something.

"I think you might have a hidden agenda." She leaned in close (_personalspace_personalspace_personalspace_). "Are you hiding something?"

Tobey only gave her a gentle smile that was at odds with the sudden tensing of his jaw. "You wish, Botsford."


	6. Respect

Their rivalry ended not with a bang, but with the gradual respect that they had for each other.

When they were children, they were always in each other's hair. Between the two of them (well, three if you were counting Victoria Best), they vied to be the top student, the one who was most adulated. Where Becky continually shined in the humanities, most notably literature, Tobey excelled in STEM subjects.

(_To no one's surprise, Victoria was the one to become the top student in their middle school_).

Even in high school, when the pool of students had increased to include other districts, they still managed to butt heads on occasion. It didn't matter if their interests didn't always match up—sometimes, it didn't have to happen like that.

Sometimes, they went head to head in school debates. Other times, they happened to want to study at a certain table in the library. Back then, there was something akin to no holds barred when it came to their daily fighting (verbal sparring, of course!). When they fought, everyone stopped what they were doing just so that they could watch.

Not surprisingly, the attention the both of them drew had the both of them duking it out online or in private. When the talk about the two "English nerds" had disappeared from the rumor mill, you would think that Tobey and Becky would have stopped with the privacy. The thing was, they found that they had quite a few things in common.

Well, aside from their love for words.

They both loved the _Princess Triana and the Ogre of Castlebum _series (although, Tobey despised the ending while Becky adored the epilogue), were notoriously bad at the arts and imagination, and at the root of it all, they were semi-introverts with somewhat lacking social skills. (The latter comparison was more heavily focused on Tobey, as much as he would hate to admit it). Once they figured out that they could somewhat coexist without tearing each other apart via dictionaries and thesauruses, they became...friends.

Tobey called it a beneficial relationship.

Becky just thought of it as a glorified acquaintanceship.

Now that they were both quite adult and mature, they were kind of friends...and sort of not friends.

It really wasn't much of a surprise for the both of them to part ways after that disastrous meeting.

It was, however, a surprise to see each other again one week later.


	7. Acceptance

Tobey had taken to wearing long sleeved flannel shirts alongside his jeans.

It wasn't too off from his usual affair, but he found that he would rather not face the embarrassing questions concerning his soul mark. Honestly, he pondered the uses of getting a makeup kit or foundation or whatever girls used to cover up blemishes, but found that he didn't want to go to all that effort for a patch of skin that could easily be covered with clothing.

(And if summer became too unbearable, he would just have to crank up the AC).

"Yo, Theo, wanna hang with the guys later?"

The guys were basically Peter's buddies from college who hailed the calling of incongruous maps and the roll of the die. On most nights, Tobey found that he actually enjoyed these get-togethers and had managed to thwart the DM a couple times with a few loopholes.

However, Tobey just wasn't feeling up to it. Some of his students had submitted less than stellar designs that were either too focused on aesthetics rather than the job it was supposed to do, or it was a hodgepodge of indecipherable lines and mathematical equations. After beating the idea of design following after function into their brains, he decided that life was too meaningless to pursue alongside those who wanted to play a board game.

He went for a walk.

Fair City hadn't changed that much over the past ten years or so.

The suburbs were filled to the brim with smiling families, buildings that rose sky high, and people who were just a tad bit too happy to be alive.

When he was younger, Tobey had fashioned himself to be a famous inventor. He thought that he could change the world with his intellect and his creativity. He thought that he would be regaled as the best technological innovator the world has ever known.

Oh, how very wrong he was.

Teachers called him wishful and precocious in that patronizing tone of theirs. Peers had taken to calling him names that he would rather not recall. In short, he had made school a living hell for himself.

Those insults stoked a fire within the blond. He internalized all of that negativity and began imagining things that were dark, and frankly, messed up.

He dreamed of creating robots that were hell-bent on destruction that would obey only his commands. Only then would people respect and fear his intellect. Only then would he feel satiated that his intelligence was something of value instead of something to be belittled.

Soon, though, he grew out of such dangerous thoughts.

He still wondered what it would be like to shake up everyone's world if he were to invent something so amazing, that people had no choice but to pay attention to him.

Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to finally find someone who would accept him for who he was…to accept his brilliance and to-to… What did he want them to do?

And who would accept him?

He happened to glance at his wrist, an unreadable expression on his face.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to find his soulma—

"Night owl, huh? I didn't expect to see you in this part of town."

Tobey choked back a sigh before looking behind him.

This time, he wasn't all too flustered. "Milady. How are you doing this fine night?"


	8. Chivalry

Becky took one look at his impassive expression before bursting into surprised laughter and tears.

Tobey didn't know what he was expecting, but he surely wasn't expecting THAT.

"What?" He tried to snap, only to sound vaguely pathetic and petulant. "Why are you laughing like that?"

"I'm so—I'm so sorry! Tobey! That was—" She couldn't stop laughing in between her lines of dialogue, so Tobey had no choice but to wait out her bout of madness for a little while.

As she did so, Tobey began to notice something…odd. Her laughter was interspersed with snorts and other unladylike noises. It was…it was somewhat enchanting and adorable. Just as suddenly as he thought that, his wrist started to grow _warmer and warmer and war_—

Becky touched his hand and Tobey could have sworn that the warmth spiked a little before subsiding.

"Sorry about that," she said almost shyly. "I've been having a rough day and your poor attempt at being some sort of Casanova was hilarious."

Tobey scoffed. "I'll have you know that I have wooed many women in the past!"

"There you again with that snobby British accent of yours." She smiled genuinely at him before pulling away (_was she touching him the entire time? it felt so nice…_). Becky hesitated for a second, almost as if she wanted to ask him something, but a brief bout of coughing kept her from saying anything. "I…Well, I hope to see you again if you're up for it."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Tobey's wrist seemed to warm again, but unlike it warming him like a poker, it felt like an embrace from an old friend. "And I thought I was supposedly the Casanova here!"

"It's the twenty first century, my dear—" _his heart almost stopped at that endearment while his wrist seemed to throb harder _"—I do believe that women have the same right as any man to ask anyone out on a date!" She struck a pose like one of those old superhero comic covers before bashfully laughing once more. "Of course, it all depends on whether or not you're up for it."

Tobey pretended to think. "Hmm…well, since it appears that chivalry is dead…

"Chivalry walked so I could run."

"Then I suppose I have no other choice than to accept."


	9. Familiar

They made plans to go to a small little shop that housed books and the best teas imaginable. As an Anglophile, Tobey appreciated the English Breakfast and muffin. Becky was more of a coffee drinker, as evidenced by her lack of a hearty beverage. She had instead bought a pastry—one that she graciously gave a part to Tobey.

"You know," as Becky bit into her half of her strawberry cheesecake, "when I first saw you, I was expecting… hmm…Perhaps I shouldn't tell you."

"Oh, no!" Tobey smirked at her over the rim of his teacup. "Feel free to bash me all you like; I was never the nicest to you all those years ago."

Although she felt doubtful, Becky carried on. "Then I suppose you don't mind that I thought you were there to steal my job and argue with me over everything. Plus," she swallowed another piece of her cake, "I thought it was some sort of elaborate prank. Those markings...they seem so familiar and so alien to me…"

Tobey perked up at that phrase. "Familiar? How so?"

"I-I've…" A fit of coughing overtook the young woman. They were small coughs, almost as if she had drunk water and the liquid had passed into the wrong tube. For a few seconds, Tobey was almost concerned until Becky smiled pleasantly at him. "Sorry about that! I've been coughing every once in a while for almost a week or so."

A thin poker of pain lanced down the underside of Tobey's wrist, but he held steadfast. There was no way he was going to pay any attention to his own pain while Becky looked troubled.

"Have you considered seeing a doctor?"

Becky shrugged. "I...it's probably nothing."

Tobey was about to argue that it didn't seem like nothing at all—as a matter of fact, it seemed like a pretty big something—but he let it go.

They were there to reminisce and have fun, not to discuss ailments and treatments and that _ghastlylanguagethatwaswrittenonhishand_.

"Say," he said in the most over-the-top enthusiastic voice he could muster, "what's the definition of salubrious?"


	10. Pragmatic

Tobey didn't like telling people that he had his soulmate's name (_was it a name or just plain scribbles?_) written on his wrist. It wasn't a taboo; in fact, it was highly encouraged that people who just happened to receive their soulmate's sign to go out and rejoice.

People would proudly display their soulmate's brand off as if it were some sort of rare jewelry. Some people would receive their signs when they were children. Other times, it was when they were adults. Sometimes, soulmate markings would show up immediately after meeting, other times, the mark of a soulmate would appear days before or even after the meeting.

Soulmate markings were usually the topic of much discussion and debate among scientists and physicians.

Regardless, Tobey had grown up with no soulmate marking, and had generally assumed, after reading statistics and rates around the world, that he had no soulmate. Which was more than fine by him.

To be honest, he thought, what use was a soulmate anyway?

But that was his pragmatic way of thinking.

Loathe as he was to admit it (as he was wont to do), he knew that finding his soulmate could possibly solve his problem concerning the pain in his wrist. Of course, that didn't mean he would start showing off his scribbles to the rest of the world, but…but it would be nice to find someone who would fit him perfectly like a long lost puzzle piece.

"Huh…looks like I'm giving away free will and choice just for a chance to belong."

He placed his head between his hands and tried to forget the pain of his wrist into the back of his head.

Did he really want a soulmate?

Or did he want to get rid of the pain?


	11. Odd

After their last get together at the cafe, they had opted to hang out again at another venue. For some odd reason, Tobey saw fit to bring Peter along. When asked, he had simply replied that Peter was spending way too much time in the safety and comfort in an apartment instead of going out to say the world. (The truth of the matter was that he felt a little shy seeing Becky again, so he needed to bring in some backup should things go south).

When Tobey and Peter met up with Becky outside of the shop, the young woman immediately hit it off with Peter. They were talking about the most inane of things like the weather, certain sports or other trivial matters that would help cement their bonding. As those two talked more and more, Tobey felt that his wrist seemed to throb and ache at fluctuating levels. There was also something weighing down his chest.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that he was feeling jealous of his friend and his _sort of friend__**.**_

"You're doing that again." Becky pointed out.

"The what?"

"You're holding your wrist like it's bothering you." She raised an eyebrow. "Did you sprain it or something? You're always holding it."

Tobey shook his head. "It's psychosomatic."

"Did you go to a doctor or did you make that diagnosis yourself?"

At that Tobey rolled his eyes. It was cute that Becky was worrying about him, but he was a grown man for goodness sake! And well… "Says the hypocrite who won't go to the doctor to get her throat checked."

Becky shrugged. "We have different situations; thus, you have no cause for argument."

"I'm not arguing. I'm just stating a fact: you are a hypocrite and I'm experiencing psychosomatic pain."

"Stating false information is more than enough cause for debate."

"If I recall correctly, we are no longer—"

A coffee mug was placed on the table with so much force, both friends became startled and looked away from each other and towards the third member of their party.

Peter took one, long, piercing look at the both of them before rolling his eyes in the most obnoxious way possible. "Guys, I hate to break up your… whatever it is—let's call it philosophy course via flirting, but I gotta go." He turned to Tobey. "Later, Theo."

"But we're not—"

"You got it wrong—"

"Call me back when you two finally start dating!"

Peter left.

And then, both Tobey and Becky turned to each other.

Tobey grasped his wrist; Becky tried to chuckle, but ended up coughing.


	12. Super

When Becky was younger, she didn't know what to be when she grew up.

She knew she had talent for memorization, had great physical prowess, and had an affinity for words.

Back then, she didn't know what types of jobs she could get. Her parents had recommended becoming a librarian, others said that she should be a writer.

Her brother teased her by saying that a love for words wouldn't become a worthwhile job.

His exact words were, "Pfft, English! It's not like a super duper cool power!"

Which led to what was perhaps the most spiteful thing Becky had ever done in her ten year old life.

This little girl, who had absolutely no taste when it came to fashion and whatnot, who valued adventure and wonder, and with the help of her over-enthusiastic parents, created Fairy City's first superhero: Wordgirl. With the power of great one-liners, grammar lessons, and a red super-suit made from old costumes in her younger years, she managed the become the star of her school. It was a fantasy that enabled her to make use of her vast knowledge of words and their meanings while helping out in the neighborhood.

She was so in love with her costume so much, she even had her stuffed monkey, Bob (also known as Captain Huggyface) to be her sidekick.

Even some of the staff at her elementary school fostered her love of helping others and stoking her imagination by pretending to be the villain (some of them even gave her the idea that she was an alien from the planet Lexicon so that she could also cope with the fact that she was adopted).

For Becky, it was an eventful childhood due to her being a superhero.

Of course, when high school took over her life, she had to hang up her cape.

All of her possessions were locked away in her cardboard "spaceship" that her dad helped make.

Sometimes, Becky thought about her childhood, but she hadn't for several years.

Well, not until she saw Tobey again.


	13. Decipher

"You never did tell me what you wanted with these...strange markings." Becky traced the symbols that Tobey had scratched onto the paper, her countenance strangely solemn and focused. "It's almost as if...No—I mean…" She sighed again. "These symbols look so familiar, and almost as if…" She stopped again.

Tobey looked up from his student's papers. "You're sounding off today, Becky. It seems like you're _too _preoccupied with those meaningless scribbles."

Becky arched an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, you seemed quite adamant to decipher these…whatever these are supposed to be."

Tobey grasped his wrist with something akin to chagrin. Unbeknownst to him, Becky watched his movements closely and began to sift through reasons why Tobey always happened to grasp his wrist just so.

What could it be, she wondered. She had already advised him to go visit the doctor, but she found that his quality of life wasn't hampered by that particular wrist. If it didn't hurt and he wasn't too affected, then why was it when she said certain things—

"Honestly, when I look at the original scribbles, they remind me of your handwriting to be honest." He cracked a grin at her. "Like a doctor's handwriting."

"Wait." Becky suddenly shot up from her chair; she was no looming over her blond friend. "You never mentioned having the original. Maybe seeing that could give me some clues."

"You seem to be so hell-bent on getting this thing decoded."

"And you seem so determined to evade me." Becky leaned ever so closer that she was merely a hair's breadth away from the blond inventor. "Can I please get the original?"

Becky was internally debating whether or not she should bat her eyelashes to get her way when Tobey petulantly replied, "Geeze, you know that's cheating!"

She batted her eyelashes at him.

Red flooded the hollows of his cheeks before he leaned back in his chair and grasped at his wrist. Becky carefully watched that movement, neurons snapping faster and faster as she took in the details of everything. Slowly, cautiously, even, Tobey pulled the sleeves on his left wrist down in a smooth motion.

She saw the dots and dashes.

She saw the flicks and strokes of a mechanical pencil just seconds away from the lead breaking.

The handwriting.

The spacing.

The symbols.

It was...It shouldn't be!

But it was.

"Becky, are you o—"

Becky stood up from her chair, looking for all the world like she'd seen a ghost.

"That's Lexiconian!"


	14. Language

The thing about Becky was that she happened to have really good memory when it came to languages and usage of said language. In high school, she was that preppy nerd who happened to take all three available language courses: Spanish, French, and German. To this day, as an adult, she could still speak those languages fluently along with a few more. Point aside, she was good at languages, in speaking and in writing.

The thing was...when Becky was younger, she happened to love languages so much that she… sort of made a new language for herself.

She called that language Lexiconian.

At first, she had used ciphers from online, often sending messages in code to close friends. When that wasn't enough, Becky came upon a notebook and began letting her imagination take over. For every letter of the alphabet, she would make a new symbol and for certain sounds in the English language, she would make several more symbols as if to make her alphabet more original.

It was a stupid little thing in the midst of her childhood fantasies, but Becky shamelessly worked hard on them.

Each and every letter that she made was unique and were her own.

In a world where she felt discarded and excluded from her own family, it was nice to think of some far off family who knew her secret language intimately.

The day she wrote her name in Lexiconian was the day she began accepting herself.


	15. Treasure

Tobey wasn't too sure how to handle this.

His sort of friend—sort of something else—had thought it necessary to bring him back to her childhood home. He was dreading meeting her parents and possibly her brother, but Lady Luck seemed to smile upon the both of them that day. Her parents were at a stroganoff-making contest and her younger brother was stuck in Fair City University doing some make-up work.

For the entire time they were rooting around her closet, he wasn't allowed to ask any questions or talk at all. For some odd reason, after the whole debacle at the library, she had bodily dragged him (how the heck was she strong?) to her house.

"Oh no, oh no," she breathed out in exasperation. "I could have sworn that I left all my valuables here!"

"That's...you keep treasure in your closet?"

"Cool it, Tobey. I don't want to get the hint that you're after the family prized jewels."

"Like diamonds and gold."

"I was thinking more stroganoff and—Aha!" She finally made it to the very back of her small closet only to come out with something like a cardboard...something that looked red and yellow. It was a good combination, but the paint was horrendous and flaking on some parts. "My spaceship from Lexicon!"

Tobey raised an eyebrow at that. Even after the whole dash from the library to her house, she never quite explained what was up with the whole Lexicon nonsense.

"This is it!" She scrambled through the cardboard's contents to deliver what appeared to be a battered notebook with words and symbols that looked very familiar...wait!

"Wait! Is that—?"

Becky nodded as she opened up her notebook to the first page where the strange symbols started appearing.

On the first line, in standard alphabet script, it read: Rebecca Botsford.

The second line was a complete match to his wrist.


	16. Secret

When Becky was younger, she wasn't as inclined towards fashion, the arts, or other girly stuff. Although she could see the appeal (especially with that of her favorite book series), she plainly wasn't into it. Becky Botsford was a young precocious little girl who wanted to make a difference in the world through her own talents and efforts—not because of what society thought that she should be doing.

Anyway, when she first heard about the legends of soulmates and soulmate markings, Becky wasn't intrigued as other young girls around her age. Oh sure, it seemed so magical to find one's soulmate, but her parents weren't soulmates and Violet and Scoops weren't soulmates either. Even without the markings, they were great couples and had been together for years (in her parent's case, decades). Even though Becky was adopted, she was sure that she wouldn't get a soul mark or sign that meant that she had a soulmate.

In general, at least a tenth of the people she met had soul marks. In her lectures, she could see that those who had soulmates and those who did not were equally as happy in relationships as the other.

To Becky, having a soulmate or a soul mark didn't mean that one was supposedly more happy than others.

If she did get a soul mark or a sign that she had a soulmate, then fine. Her expectations would not be raised higher than it should be.

If she didn't get a soul mark or a sign, then whatever. Having someone in her life wasn't equitable to personal happiness.

Becky thought that she would have been okay if either of the two situations occurred.

What she didn't expect was to see a soul mark on Tobey's wrist that depicted her name in her secret language.


	17. Daffodil

For a moment, at the foot of Becky's closet, they just stared at each other in confused, embarrassed realization.

Tobey looked like he was about to collapse. His face had gone white and the hand that gripped his wrist in what appeared to be a vice like grip had white knuckled hands. His breathing, which used to be deep and even, had escalated as if he had run a marathon at record speeds. His eyes, focused on his wrist like lasers trying to get rid of the unruly scrawl that made and made more sense that it had come from a ten year old little girl who liked superhero comic books more than she let on.

Becky, was on the opposite of the spectrum. She, too, sat on the floor of her bedroom, scant inches away from Tobey. While Tobey looked petrified—almost horrified by the prospect of being soulmates with her, she seemed calm. Too calm.

Tobey noticed this. "Why are you… Why are you so damn calm?"

He hadn't intended his voice to be harsh, but all of his beliefs had basically gone down the drain. There was no way that Becky was his soulmate! They just met and they were barely at that stage where they were kind of...not seeing each other as friends anymore. What was he supposed to do than to project and enforce his anger onto her?

He could have made the choice to be constructive, but as usual, his anger needed a destructive outlet.

Now.

Suddenly, he realized that Becky was acting like everything was normal. That nothing had turned absolutely topsy turvy, upside down, chaotic over the normal processes of order. There was just something off…

The more he thought about it, the angrier and shocked he had become.

When he first saw his soul mark and began researching into the strange language that had littered his wrist, he didn't think that it would be… her. It was anticlimactic? He didn't know what to think about her. Not now. Not in this way when they had just met and reconnected after years of strife and almost friendship.

"Did you know?" He leaned in close so that his soft voice wouldn't have to carry as far. "Did you know that I was…?"

He didn't have to finish his question.

Slowly, Becky opened her mouth and coughed out a single flower onto the carpeting.

It was a single yellow daffodil tinged with red.


	18. Risk

Becky knew the exact moment when she started coughing.

She was visiting her brother at Fair City University. She had been walking around, trying to get herself acclimated to the winding hallways and numerous doors when suddenly, a young man came out of one of the lecture halls, his face contorted in pain. The urgency to help him rose unexpectedly within her.

She had reached out intent on finding out what was wrong, but once she had done so, he simply brushed past her with barely a look in her direction.

Just as suddenly as he had brushed past her, pain lanced through her chest. It was a burning sort of itch that could only be healed by one certain bodily function: coughing.

And Becky continued coughing every day for almost two and a half weeks after that.

Every day that she would cough, she would either hack up small droplets of blood or tiny little budding yellow petals. As more and more time passed, the petals became larger and larger… until she started coughing up entire flowers.

Of course, like any sane person, she went to the doctor after almost five days of almost non-stop coughing.

The diagnosis?

Hanahaki Disease.

And if she couldn't find that one person who she bumped into a few days ago, then she would either have to die or to undergo surgery, risking loss of her soulmate and her soul mark forever.


	19. Choice

Tobey stared long and hard at the daffodil—the blood steadily dripped onto the carpet, forever staining it. He took the daffodil in one hand and glanced again at the name that was written on his wrist. The more he looked at the writing, the more he saw more and more of the ten year old girl he used to fight with when they were just prepubescent children. He saw the hope and determination of a little girl who had dreams.

And now?

He looked to Becky and saw that she kept her eyes focused on her lap. Her face was impassive, but there was something sparkling in her eyes. Could it be? But...even when they were kids, no matter how far Tobey went with his taunts and how much he used to bicker with her, she never cried.

Without even realizing it, his left hand rose, the back of his hand touching the curve of her cheek just so. It was a light touch until Becky leaned her head onto his hand.

"We…" Tobey took a deep, shuddering breath and let both of his hands to caress her face. She looked up at him, curiosity and hope on her face. "We need to talk...about lots of things."

Becky held his wrists and pulled him closer to her.

Closer and closer still until their noses were just touching.

"We do."

And just like that, Becky buried her head into the hollow of his neck, burrowing into his body as if he were her last source of heat. Tobey hunched over her, protecting her. For that moment, they were alone in this world of soulmates and soul marks, of having a choice and having to be chosen.

They still didn't know what to think of themselves—whether or not they should pursue this fickle thing called romance or do away with that concept altogether.

For now, though, Becky felt whole—her lungs breathed in Tobey's unique scent.

For now, Tobey felt loved—his wrist no longer ached as he held Becky tighter still.

For now, as both soulmates breathed and held each other into a new beginning, all was well.


End file.
